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I feel sorry for Emmie after overhearing her conversation with Kookie.  But, truthfully, I think every set of best friends walks through such a time of transition when boys enter the picture.  I know I did.  My first best friend to get a boyfriend often ditched me for him.  I hadn’t realized that was the reason Kookie had stopped hanging out with Donovan, though.  Apparently, guys can go through the same thing.  Perhaps this circumstance will draw Emmie and Kookie even closer.  Maybe it already has.  

I glance up into the rearview mirror as I drive home from the store.  Kookie insisted on sitting with Emmie in the middle of the van.  I catch sight of them now.  And notice that he’s holding her hand.  My heart melts.  

Though, I’m still wondering if I should prod Janna in the right direction.  Does she have any idea how her friend feels?

—

As we step into the house a few minutes later, Abs comes running up to me.

“Mommy?  Can we bake more pecan balls today?”

I smile down at my adorable youngest.  “Trying to tempt me to put on some weight before Christmas, eh?”

“Mommy, that’s why we need to make some.  For our Christmas Eve party,” Alastair adds as he comes to a stop next to his twin.

“You know what else we need to make?” I ask.

They both shake their heads.

“The cheesecake for our Christmas Eve party.  And some treats for our new friends.”  I glance over at Kookie and Emmie.  “Can you guys wrap all the presents we just bought?”

“Sure,” Emmie responds as Kookie nods his head.

“Come on,” I urge my younger boys as I head for the kitchen. 

Pretty soon, we’re all standing around the island with our ingredients all lined up.  “Abs, can you read the recipe card?  What’s the first thing we need to do to make pecan balls?”

“Preheat the oven to three hundred twenty-five degrees.”

“Okay,” I move across the kitchen and push a few buttons on my stovetop.  “Done.  What’s next?”

“Cream the butter and sugar.”  He glances up at me with a quizzical expression on his cute, little face.  “Mommy, what does cream mean?”

“It means we need to use our mixer to beat the butter and sugar together until they’re fluffy.  Alastair, how much butter do we need to use?”

“One stick of softened butter.  And a quarter cup of powdered sugar.”

“Perfect.  There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?” Alastair asks, disappointment clearly dampening his countenance.

“If we make only one batch, we won’t have nearly enough.  Let’s triple the recipe.  So instead of one stick of butter, we need…”

“Three!” Abs answers before Alastair can.

But a moment later, he throws his two cents in too.  “That means we need to use three-quarters of a cup of powdered sugar.”

“Good, boys.  Let’s soften three sticks of butter and beat it with the sugar.”  I glance at the recipe card.  “What else are we going to need?”

“It says one teaspoon vanilla,” Abs reads the card.

“But we need three times that, so three teaspoons,” Alastair remarks.

“That’s right, but did you know that three teaspoons has another name?” I query.

They both shake their heads. 

“Remember?  Three teaspoons is the same as one tablespoon.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alastair murmurs. 

“The recipe calls for one cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt, and half a cup of pecans.   So how much flour do we need?”

“Three cups,” Abs pipes up.

“And three-quarters a teaspoon of salt,” Alastair adds.  “And we need to chop up a cup and a half of pecans.”

“Perfect.  How about I chop the pecans while you two cut up the butter so we can microwave it?  I don’t have any softened butter lying around.”

Soon we’ve creamed our butter and sugar, added our vanilla, and beat in the remaining ingredients to form a soft – and delicious – dough.  Have I mentioned how good this dough is?  Who needs to bake these cookies?  I can just sit around and eat the dough.  The only question is why can’t pecan balls be a low-caloric health food?

I suppose the answer is that if they were, they wouldn’t taste so good.

“Okay, guys, now we need to take about a cubic inch of dough and roll it into a ball.  Then place it on this cookie sheet.”

“What’s a cubic inch?” Abs scrunches up his darling, little nose.

“You know what a cubic inch is.  Remember?  It’s a cube with—”

“One-inch sides,” Alastair finishes for me.

“That’s right.  Here, scoop out about this much dough,” I demonstrate for them before we all begin to roll the dough into balls.

I’m not telling – and neither are the boys – if some of that dough ended up in a mouth – or three – instead of on a cookie sheet.

Before long, our cookies are in the oven.  “How long do we bake them?” I ask my boys.

“Twenty to twenty-five minutes,” they respond in unison, making us all laugh.  This is a frequent occurrence with my twins.

“How do we tell when they’re baked?” I query.

“They’re lightly browned on the bottom,” Alastair is clearly summarizing what he read on the recipe card.

After we fill the other baking sheet with pecan balls, I turn to my boys with a big grin on my face.  “Look!  There’s quite a bit of dough left.”  I reach into a drawer and pull out two spoons.  Then I scoop some dough onto each before handing them to my two smiling darlings.  I eat the remainder of the dough with my spatula. 

“Do you guys know the secret of the pecan ball?” I ask suddenly.

Eyes wide, they both shake their heads at me.

“What is the secret of the pecan ball, Mommy?” Alastair queries breathlessly.

“That the best part of making pecan balls is eating the leftover dough!”

They both giggle and continue to lick the greasy dough off their spoons.  I gather up the dishes and head for the sink.  We spend a few moments cleaning up our mess before moving on to making the world’s best cheesecake.

––

Late in the afternoon, I gather around the dining table with all my kids, Emmie, and Noel.  Only Janna and Lyric are missing.

“Okay, guys.  We’re going to review our plans for Operation Christmas.”

“Operation Christmas?” Everett questions me.  “What’s Operation Christmas?”

“Well, this year it includes several things.  Number one: our plans to bless Jimmy and his mom.  Number two: our preparations for our Christmas Eve dinner.  Number three: all our activities for Christmas Day.”

“Opening presents!” Abs exclaims.

I laugh.  “Well, of course.  The only preparation required for that is buying and wrapping presents.  So, Abs, have you bought and wrapped all the presents?”

The look on his face is comical.  Then a blinding grin escapes from his lips as he admonishes me, “Silly Mommy!  That’s not my job.  That’s your job.”

“It is?” I ask in mock surprise.  “I was supposed to buy everyone presents this year?  Oh, dear.  We may have a problem then…”

His face falls.  “What?”

“I don’t have all the presents wrapped yet!”

His smile reappears as a wave of relief crashes against the shoreline of his face. 

“So, what else do we have to prepare for Christmas Day?” I ask my crew.

“Christmas brunch!” Everett offers.

“And dinner!” Alastair and Kookie add in unison.

“That’s right.  So, let’s go over our list,” I stare down at my piece of paper.  “We need to plan our meal for Christmas Eve.  Swedish meatballs and gravy, mashed potatoes, lefse, cucumber salad…. What am I forgetting?”

“Lingonberries,” Kookie reminds me.

“Oh, yes!  The one thing that doesn’t have to be made at home.  In fact, it can’t be made at home.  Unless somebody planted a lingonberry bush in our backyard and failed to inform me.” 

I glance up at him and Emmie.  “I would like to share our Christmas Eve dinner with Jimmy and his mom.  So, we’ll need to make the meatballs early in the morning.  I’ll make the meatball dough tomorrow night.  Then we can form them in the morning on Tuesday, and I can begin cooking them before noon.”

I continue enumerating our plans.  “I’m assuming Janna and Lyric will make the lefse.  Would you two oversee the mashed potatoes?” I ask Kookie and Emmie.  “We need to make a small batch of those right before we head to the hospital.”

They both nod their heads.

“Can we help peel the potatoes?” Alastair asks.

“Absolutely!” I grin at him.  “We’ll need lots of help in that department!  We have a big group coming on Christmas Eve.  The biggest group we’ve ever hosted!  Noel and Emmie will be here.  And Lyric’s entire family is coming!”

My children’s eyes grow wide. 

“So, there will be plenty of potatoes that need peeling.  We have to make a lot of mashed potatoes.  Some go into the lefse, and the rest will be paired with gravy for dinner.”  I glance back down at my list.  “We can make the cucumber salad tomorrow night.  It needs to soak overnight anyway.  And today the boys and I got our cheesecakes made.”

“And our pecan balls!” Abner grins.

“We have some buckeyes in the fridge.  And Christmas cookies in the freezer.”

“Sugar cookies?” Everett asks.

“Gingerbread?”  That’s Kookie.

I bob my head at them.  “Both.  And we have peppermint fudge in the fridge.”

“Are we making any more cookies, Mommy?” Alastair asks.

I blink.  “Is there something else we need to make?  Something that’s missing?” I wrinkle my brow as I begin to check cookies off a mental list.

“Christmas crack,” Emmie reminds me.

I groan.  Christmas crack is the reason I gained five pounds in one week last year.  “Do we have to make Christmas crack?”

“YES!” they all roar.

Everyone loves Christmas crack.  That’s the problem.  How is anyone supposed to resist layers of graham crackers, homemade toffee, and melted chocolate.  How??!  I ask you!

I sigh.  “All right.  If we’re going to make it, we should do it now.  That way we can make up a little tin of it for Jimmy and his mom too.”

Everyone is excited now.  I can see the anticipation of that gooey sweetness dancing all over their faces now.

“But first, let’s finish our list,” I bring everyone back on track.  “Brunch on Christmas.”

“Scrambled eggs and sausage,” Kookie suggests.

“Cinnamon rolls!” everyone else votes.

I chuckle.  “Yes.  Okay.”  Sweet, short, simple.  Just the way I like a meal for Christmas morning.

“Orange juice,” Everett adds.

“Of course,” I murmur.  “Who wants eggs and sausage without orange juice?”  Then I grimace.  “Of course, it’s not that good with cinnamon rolls.”

I scan my notes.  “Moving on.  Christmas dinner…”

“Are we cooking a ham this year?” Kookie queries.

“Absolutely.  And scalloped potatoes.”

“Broccoli casserole?” Everett asks grudgingly.  If Janna were here, she would ask it with great enthusiasm.

“Yep.”

“Rolls?” Alastair’s wide eyes blink.

“Definitely.”

“Apricot salad?”  It’s Abner’s turn.

“Yes.  I got all the ingredients this afternoon,” I smile at him. 

Apricot salad was one of my favorite dishes as a kid growing up in my grandparents’ home.  My husband calls it trailer park food.  Janna always responds, “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

But they are both wrong.  It’s absolutely delicious.  My grandma’s table wouldn’t be the same without it.  My cousin agrees.  He always eats three helpings and takes the leftovers home. 

And I grew up as far from a trailer park as I could.  In a beautiful, old Victorian house with a huge front porch.  It even has a porch swing.  I spent many an autumn day sailing through the air on those painted boards.

“What’s for dessert?” questions Kookie.

I grin.  “You got your mother’s sweet tooth, didn’t you, son?”  I want to say, “What’s not for dessert?” 

We are surrounded by sugar!

“Are we baking pies?” Everett looks hopeful.

“What kind?” I ask.

“Apple!” Noel, Everett, and Abs respond.

“Cherry!” Alastair exclaims.

“Pecan!” Kookie finishes.

Emmie’s not a pie lover.  Strange, huh?

Clearly, she’s not descended from me.  Or my pie-loving grandpa.

“We’ll make one of each,” I respond.  “Only, we’ll make the first one a Dutch apple.” 

It’s the only way to go.  That layer of buttery crumble beats a plain pie crust any day.

I heave a deep sigh.  More baking to do.  But not until Tuesday.  I get to take a break for the remainder of today. 

But then I remember the Christmas crack.

“Are you guys ready to make Christmas crack?” I ask six eager faces.

They all begin to bob up and down.  I cross the kitchen and reach for my recipe box.  I find the recipe before I begin to issue orders.

“Everett, Abs, and Alastair, can you guys get the ingredients from the basement?  We need two pounds of butter, a bag of brown sugar, two boxes of honey graham crackers, and two packages of chocolate chips.  Kookie, can you grab the two biggest cookie sheets and line them with foil?  You’ll need to spray it with cooking spray too.”

My children rush to do my bidding.  If only they were this eager to help clean the house.  Within a few minutes, we’ve assembled all the necessary items, and Kookie has prepared the baking sheets.

“Okay, guys.  I need you to line both pans with the graham crackers.”

“Like this?” Alastair asks as he carefully lines up two crackers in the pan nearest him.

“That’s right.  In a single layer.  We need to make sure they fill the whole pan from side to side.”

“And top to bottom?”  My precise, little Alastair again.

“Exactly.”

“But, Mommy, it won’t fit in the corner,” Abs complains.

“That’s no problem.  Here, let me see your cracker.”  I snap it in half.  “Now, just put this piece along the edge.  You’ll have to break them to fit them around the edges, apparently.”

As my children line the cookie sheets with crackers, I unwrap four sticks of butter and place them in a large pan over medium heat.  Once the butter is melted, I add two packed cups of light brown sugar and a teaspoon of salt.

“Now what, Mommy?”

I glance down at Alastair.  He’s standing at my elbow peering up at me.

“Now we have to boil this for almost five minutes.  Then we pour it over the graham crackers and bake them in the oven for seven minutes.”

“At what temperature?” asks my little calculator.

“Oh!” I jump.  “I forgot to preheat the oven.  Can you do it?  Three hundred fifty degrees.”

After he turns the oven on, he watches me whisking the toffee.  “Do you have to stir it the entire time?”

“Yep.  We don’t want it to burn onto the bottom of the pan.”

He nods sagely.  He sticks close to my side until the toffee is thickened.  Then I turn off the burner and pour the sweet liquid over our crackers until all of them are completely covered. 

“Into the oven, they go,” I murmur as I turn to place the pans in the oven.

A few minutes later, I pull them out.  “Kookie?  Can you and Emmie sprinkle the chocolate chips over the top of the crackers?”

I glance down at Alastair.  “Now we pop them back in the oven for two minutes to let the chocolate melt.”

Once this is done, I remove them from the oven again and set them on the counter.  “Now we use an offset spatula to spread the chocolate evenly over the crackers,” I instruct my crew.

Abner’s eyes light up.  “Can we eat them now?”

“Not quite yet.  You don’t want to burn your tongue on the hot toffee.  Let’s let them cool for a few minutes.  Generally, we let them sit here for three hours to let the chocolate set.  But,” I grin down at him mischievously, “I love them with melted chocolate.  So we won’t have to wait that long to sample them.  Unless you want to,” I add with a straight face.

“No way!” Abs shakes his head vigorously.

The younger boys disappear into another room.  “I see how it is,” I mutter wryly to Kookie and Emmie.  “Everyone wants to sample the goodies, but no one wants to help me clean the kitchen.”

“I’ll help you,” Emmie offers sweetly.

“Yeah, Mom, we’ll do the dishes.  You can take a break,” Kookie agrees.

I smile at my eldest son.  And at his crush.

“Thanks, guys.  I’m going to take you up on that offer.” 

I grin to myself as I head for the living room recliner.  Kookie and Emmie are a good match.  Both as sweet as the chocolate toffee crackers cooling on my kitchen counter.